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Shane Jul 27
Each court crowns a fool
Some wear it too well
I danced for his rule
Now I rot in his cell

A fool for the plot
He praised me in jest
But dead men still dance
When denied their rest

So I wait for a storm
To darken the land
Till cracks start to form
Beneath his command

Till the famine-worn tread
With their torches held high
To harvest the crumbs
Of a banquet denied

They carry my pain
In the heat of their cry
For the crown and the chain
And a kingdom awry

My cell starts to moan
As the ramparts collapse
They tear through the stone
And free me at last

I walk through the blaze
As the palace combusts
They gave me a stage
Now revenge I shall ******

He begged for his life
With tears on his cheek
I offered my knife
And let silence speak

No need for a trial
His crimes were well known
So I asked with a smile
Who had the last laugh
Kagey Sage Jul 22
The uniting spirit between us
hundreds of thousands of years and
we lived as hunter-gatherers

This blip in civilization
has been the ascension of the individual
Look at all us tyrants can do by exploiting the universal potential
Spur on division amid the masses and channel any
enlightening sciences into lip service appeasements
that only serve to enhance the status quo
hum-**, regular old exploitive system
we verify by looking back
in our teleological telescopes
Just like the Dutch East India pirates in the Spice Islands

The worst of it is the hypocrisy of it all
Saying they're for freedom and rights
and endorse the man from Galilee handing out fish to
panhandling outcasts, but no
of course the killing is worse
than the irony in between

MacDonald's dead, his tartan's in rags
We're powerless
so we became smart as kids
Putz around, find out stupid ruthlessness wins
Some folks just can't do it
Em MacKenzie Jul 17
This didn’t happen overnight,
pushed all boundaries out of sight.
Don’t know their next step but it can’t be right.
Their grubby hands covering your eyes,
wicked tongues whispering blatant lies.
No confirmation for their alibis.

If a group of like minded people
can storm the Capital why not a steeple?
A sanctuary that’s built for predators.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
why can’t they now go in for the ****?
Maybe too busy running from creditors.
I’m just so annoyed with the American void.

So many questions all over a vote;
they tried to mutiny like on a boat,
but now not asking why there’s no note.
With all those riots that were in the street,
willing to take a bullet or join the line to be beat,
no asking why someone special got an extra sheet.

If a group of like minded people
can defeat police then why not the bald eagle?
Just another symbol for freedom and justice’s joke.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
does it not drive you crazy to now stay still?
Maybe too distracted by the war of Pepsi vs Coke.
I’m just so annoyed with the American Void.

If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and certain isles?
It’s funny how they gave away,
the ones we already knew what they’d say.
If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and their trials.
It’s funny how they gave away,
the records of JF & ML K.

Apparently there’s a minute missing every night
I guess we know when the time to strike is right.
“They’ll look at the tv and say ‘that’s too bad’ and go back to their TV dinners.”
Zywa Jun 17
Destruction, and then

the dust settles, the wind blows --


Of a new era?
Decay, demolition and war

Collection "New Ago"
Cadmus May 13
There are moments
when words become more than sound,
more than air shaped by thought.

They become a call to arms
for the weary soul,
a rising drumbeat
in the chest of humankind.

In the mouth of a true orator,
words rise like music,
then fall like thunder
moving hearts,
igniting wills,
reshaping destiny itself.

Spoken with the precision of art
and the fire of belief,
a single sentence
can lift the broken,
summon the silent,
and awaken a city from sleep.

No weapon forged by man
has ever rivaled
the right words,
fueled by conviction,
spoken at the right time.
This poem is a tribute to the timeless force of oratory, the art of speech that stirs revolutions, uplifts nations, and awakens the sleeping strength within individuals. History has shown us that in moments of darkness, it is often words not weapons, that light the way forward.
Ahmed Gamel Apr 24
A New World I See
I see a world not built on chains,
But minds that question, break the reins.
Where hearts are free to roam and soar,
Not bound by rules, but longing more.

The world we know is cracked and scarred,
Where truth is bent and dreams are barred.
The wolves above, they feast and lead,
While beneath, the sheep must bleed.

Yet I see a world where minds can thrive,
Where freedom's spark keeps us alive.
Not chaos born from hearts that burn,
But love and truth we’ll fight to learn.

Still, there’s a darkness in our veins,
A hunger deep, a thirst for gains.
For power, control, the will to rise—
We mask it well, but still disguise.

Two worlds we face, both dark and light,
One bound by fear, one free of fight.
The wolves will lead, the sheep will fall,
But will we rise above it all?

A world of power, a world of pride,
A world where we don’t need to hide.
A choice to rise, to build, to free,
To claim the world that’s meant to be.

But the cost is high, the price we pay,
For those who twist, for those who sway.
They'll take our truth, they'll take our soul,
And use our freedom to control.

Still, I see a world where love’s the key,
Where minds are sharp and hearts are free.
We hold our fate, we choose our way,
And with each step, we light the day.

We’ll walk the line between the wolf,
And in our hands, the power to pull.
From darkness into light we rise,
With truth and love as our disguise.

We are not beasts, we are the ones,
The chosen few, the many sons.
And if we fall, we rise again,
In a world reborn by love, not sin.

The answer’s ours, the choice is clear,
Will we fight or give in to fear?
I see a world where we can be,
More than wolves, more than the sea.

So I choose a world that’s born from mind,
A world where truth and love align.
A world where we can truly see—
The best of us, the best we’ll be.
This poem explores the complexities of human nature and society, questioning the delicate balance between freedom and control, power and love. It delves into the contradictions that define us as humans—our potential for both greatness and destruction—and envisions a world where we break free from the systems that hold us back. It's a call to awaken, to rise above the constraints imposed on us, and to embrace both love and truth as guiding forces.

I hope this resonates with you and sparks some deep reflection. May we all strive to build a world where humanity is free, not just from external chains, but from the limitations we place upon ourselves.
Aster Mar 30
cursed gods,
don't make blessed humans
cursed devotion,
doesn't make a conscientious society
cursed patriotism,
doesn't make a great nation
cursed community, though,
does make a great solidarity
                    a great humanity
                    a mighty
                         revolutionary
                         collective consciousness
iff (if and only if)
         the cursed motherland
         blesses it's children
         drives wedges between
         the hostile oppressor
         and the devoted native

a cursed community,
   doesn't need a God
                      or a hero
   it needs devotion
               unto each other

your land will take care of you~
Jesse Mar 9
O People,
I have become your Sultan,
Break your idols after your misguidance,
And worship me...
I do not reveal myself always,
So sit upon the pavement of patience
Until you can behold me.

Leave your children without bread,
Abandon your women without husbands,
And follow me…
Praise God for His grace,
For He has sent me to write history,
And history cannot be written without me.

I am Joseph in beauty,
No golden hair like mine has God ever created,
No prophetic forehead like mine,
My eyes...
A forest of olive and almond trees,
So pray always that God may protect my eyes.

O People,
I am Majnun Layla,
So send me your wives to bear my seed,
And send your husbands to give me thanks.
It is an honor to eat the wheat of my flesh,
An honor to pluck my almonds and figs,
An honor to resemble me…
For I am an event unseen
For thousands of years.

O People,
I am the first, the most just, the most beautiful,
Among all rulers.
I am the full moon of darkness, the whiteness of jasmine,
I am the first inventor of the gallows,
And the best of the messengers.

Whenever I think of leaving power,
My conscience forbids me…
Who, then, shall rule after me these kind souls?
Who shall heal the lame, the leprous, the blind after me?
Who shall bring life to the bones of the dead?
Who shall draw the moonlight from his cloak?
Who shall send down the rain upon the people?

Who, tell me,
Will flog them ninety lashes?
Who, tell me,
Will crucify them upon the trees?
Who, tell me,
Will force them to live like cattle?
And die like cattle?

Whenever I think of leaving them,
My tears flow like a cloud,
And I put my trust in God…
And decide to ride upon the people
From now until the Day of Judgment.

O People,
I own you
Just as I own my horses and my slaves.
I walk upon you
As I walk upon the carpet of my palace.
So bow to me when I rise,
And bow to me when I sit.

Did I not find you one day
Between the pages of my ancestors?
Beware of reading any book,
For I read on your behalf.
Beware of writing any speech,
For I write on your behalf.
Beware of listening to Fairuz in secret,
For I know your intentions well.
Beware of reciting poetry before me,
For it is a cursed devil.
Beware of entering the grave without my permission,
For that is a great sin among us.

And keep silent when I speak,
For my words are a sacred Quran…

O People,
I am your Mahdi, so await me!
And my blood pulses in the heart of the vines,
So drink me.

Stop all the hymns that children sing
In love of the homeland,
For I have become the homeland...
I am the One, the Eternal,
Among all creatures.

I am stored in the memory of apples,
The flute, and the blue melodies.
Raise my portraits above the squares,
Cover me with clouds of words,
And marry me the youngest of brides…
For I do not age.

My body does not age,
My prisons do not age,
And the instruments of oppression in my kingdom do not age.

O People,
I am Al-Hajjaj; if I remove my mask, you will know me.
And I am Genghis Khan,
I have come to you with my spears, my dogs, and my prisons.
Do not resent my tyranny,
For I **** so that you do not **** me.
I hang so that you do not hang me.
I bury you in mass graves,
So that you do not bury me.

O People,
Buy me newspapers to write about me,
For they are displayed in the streets like prostitutes.
Buy me green, polished paper like the grasses of spring,
Ink, and printing presses.
Everything in our time is for sale,
Even fingers.

Buy me the fruit of thought,
And place it before me.
Cook me a poet,
And serve him among my dishes.

I am illiterate,
And I have a phobia of what poets say.
So buy me poets who sing my beauty,
And make me the star of all covers,
For dancers and actors
Are never more beautiful than I am.

Buy me all that cannot be bought
On this earth or in the sky.
Buy me
A forest of honey,
And a pound of women.

For with hard currency,
I purchase what I desire.
I buy Bashar ibn Burd’s poetry,
Al-Mutanabbi’s lips,
And Labid’s odes…

For the millions in the House of Muslims’ Wealth
Are an ancient inheritance of my father,
So take from my gold
And write in the great books
That my era…
Is the era of Harun al-Rashid…

O Masses of my land,
O masses of Arab nations,
I am a pure soul sent to cleanse you
Of the dust of ignorance.
Record my voice on tapes…
For my voice flows like a green fountain,
Like Andalusian melodies.

Capture me, smiling like the Mona Lisa,
Gentle as the face of Magdalene.
Capture me,
With my dignity, my grandeur,
And my military staff.

Capture me
As I sever the people’s necks like apples,
Capture me
As I hunt a deer or a gazelle.
Capture me
As I tear poetry apart with my teeth,
As I drink the blood of the alphabet.
Capture me
As I carry you upon my shoulders to the eternal abode!

O Masses of my land,
O masses of Arab nations,

O People,
I am responsible for your dreams, when you dream,
I am responsible for every loaf you eat,
And for the poetry
You read behind my back.

For the security apparatus in my palace
Informs me of the birds’ whispers,
And the secrets of the ears of wheat,
And of what happens inside the wombs of pregnant women.

O People,
I am your jailer, and I am your prisoner,
So forgive me.

I am the exiled one, within my own palace,
I see no sun, no stars, no flowers of oleander,
Since I came to power as a child,
And the circus men gather around me—
One blows a flute,
One beats a drum,
One polishes my boots,
One kisses my hands…

Since I came to power as a child,
No advisor has ever told me "No,"
No minister has ever dared to say "No,"
No ambassador has ever stood against me.

They have taught me to see myself as a god,
And to see the people, from my balcony, as dust.

So forgive me…
If I have turned into a new Hulagu,
I have never killed for the sake of killing,
I **** only to entertain myself.
"This poem explores the themes of power, tyranny, and the complex relationship between rulers and the ruled. It is a symbolic cry against oppression, depicting the voice of unheard nations. Its meaning is left open to the reader’s interpretation."
Gideon Mar 8
History has always had your back.
Society will always stab you in it.
Let heads roll low on the ground,
While you hold your head high.
Might doesn’t ever make right.
The strongest among us are always
those with naught but compassion
and kindness growing in their hearts.
Weeds, they will always grow back.
Society will tell you that there is no
difference between strength and will.
History tells us that will is stronger.
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